Number two in an elevator

I am not sure if I am at a standstill or not. I weighed in on Saturday and was 258.4 pounds. Having lost 8.2 pounds since my first weigh-in at the YMCA, I am pleased with the results. I am officially down 19 pounds since I started my journey on Nov. 28, of 2012 and noticing the difference.

I am not sure if I am at a standstill or not. I weighed in on Saturday and was 258.4 pounds. Having lost 8.2 pounds since my first weigh-in at the YMCA, I am pleased with the results. I am officially down 19 pounds since I started my journey on Nov. 28, of 2012 and noticing the difference.

One thing eating at me is the fact I should have lost more weight the week I was in Chicago.

Let me set the stage.

There are three things I hate more than anything. Four if you count spiders. Planes, elevators and elevators on planes. (Yes they have them, DC 10s and L1011s to name a few.)

Flying to Philly from Wilkes Barre on the Jan. 20 sucked. There is no polite way to put it. The only way it would have sucked more is if I were seated in an elevator. The flight to Chicago was better. The hotel was beautiful with the exception of the elevators. Glass elevators to be precise.

So what does all this have to do with losing weight? I'm going to tell you.

On my last day in Chicago I was pretty used to the elevators. Liquor has that effect. Checkout was at noon and our conference was going until three. During a break, myself and a skinny guy I will call Denny, went to our rooms to retrieve our luggage.

As we returned to the elevator, I faced the doors like normal so I would not have to watch the ride down. The doors closed and I thanked God in silent prayer I would not have to ride in this thing anymore. Just as Denny asked me if something was wrong because I seemed nervous, the elevator jolted and dropped about two feet stopping with a jerk. I was not the jerk in question. This was an actual jerk.

"What the hell just happened?" Denny asked.

After throughly evacuating my bowels, I said, "The hell if I know, but I don't like it." My language was actually much more colorful. I pushed buttons in a vain attempt to get the elevator moving. Nothing. "Should I press the alarm button?" I asked.

Denny replied, "No, I do not want to scare anyone."

"Too late. That's not aftershave you are smelling right now," I quipped.

As I said that, the elevator started to slowly go down, jerking slightly as it did. It came to a stop on the lobby floor about two feet higher than floor level. Again I asked if should push the alarm, but Denny was calling a friend on his cell phone and explained the situation. He then managed to get his fingers between the doors and slid them open. My hero.

We were free and I was 10 pounds lighter. Just kidding. It was more like six. This diet is going to be the death of me I swear.